The Last Ballad

Ella May Wiggins, a young mother desperately trying to hold her family together with the paltry nine dollars a week she earns from the textile mill two miles away, makes up her mind to join the labor union--a decision that will have lasting consequences for her children, her friends, her town, and all that she loves. Intertwining myriad voice, Cash brings to life the heartbreak and bravery of the now forgotten struggle of the labor movement in early twentieth-century America--and pays tribute to the thousands of heroic women and men who risked their lives to win basic rights for all workers"-- Adapted from publisher information"The eagerly awaited next novel from the author of the New York Times bestselling A Land More Kind Than Home about a young mother desperately trying to hold her family together in the years before the Great Depression, a haunting and moving story of cowardice, courage and sacrifice"-- Provided by publisher

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Mayhap it's just me, hell it usually is. My mind is elsewhere these days. I have a Client I work with who has the schizophrenia and he always asks me if it's the end of the world soon? Depending on life circumstances I want to say, "No I have 50 more good years left in me," or "If only" or "It sure as Fuck feels like it sister." My mind is constantly drifting and dreaming these days, to fear, unimaginable sorrow, take your breath away panic, rage or blank numbness. I sometimes get off the phone with a friend and the only thing I can think of are Jerry Garcia lyrics like, "His friends were getting most concerned," or Robert Zimmerman's, "Yes I received your letter yesterday, about the time the doorknob broke. You asked how I was doing, man is that some kind of joke." I thought I knew what desolation row was back in the 80's and most definitely in the 90's. Back then my life was akin to Jenny's in Forest Gump sans the stripping and unfortunately no Black Panther Parties. So maybe this was good or maybe I was just expecting to be blown away like a Land More Kind Than Home, but it came off somewhat trite and maybe sounding like he was trying too hard. I often wonder if these guys actually have these books in them or if they write out of contractual mandate. I do suspect that it has more to do with the material and writing in this case than my state of well being. Much like my second baby mama this piece just seemed to be missing a soul. Unlike her there is no threat of having your own soul taken by making eye contact with this book, which is nice.